The Man of Myths and Fairy Tales
by noorwrites
Summary: Eveline, her poverty forcing her into becoming a whore at such a young, barely adult age, has taught her a thing or two about the world. She believe s that there are no good men out there, not one whose heart is pure, but when one of the old whores tricks a young, handsome blonde into a fix with Evelline, she might just change her mind. {Enjolras/OC} {Oneshot}


**READ AUTHOR'S NOTE**

***Hi, how you doing, what's good? Okay, so in this oneshot, I wrote the lyircs to the Love Ladies tune. So basically, if anything looks like "_this" _you hear it in the Lovey Ladies chorus tone, which is **

_**Lovely ladies**_

_**Waiting for a bite**_

_**Waiting for the customers**_

_**Who only come at night**_

_**Lovely ladies**_

_**Ready for the call**_

_**Standing up or lying down**_

_**Or any way at all**_

_**Bargain prices up against the wall**_

**And if it is written like this** "_this_"** you hear it like Fantine's part in the song where she goes **

_What can I do?_

_ It pays a debt._

_Ten francs may save my poor Cosette!_

**Alright, that's it! Hope you like it. It's my first Les Mis story, so leave your thoughts in a review if you can. Thanks!***

In times like this, the people were forced to do what they had to. Some became beggars, dragging their aching feet over grimy French streets, one hand keeping a tattered rag around their cold, hungry bodies, and the other extended outward in hopes that a Franc or two might its way into it. Others would speak their throats dry, trying to convince employers to take a chance on them, to give them any job they had in their factories, no matter how small or how unimportant. There were some people, however, that chose to employ themselves, and one of those people was Eveline.

She was a young woman, just stepping into adult hood. She hadn't a family or many friends, but she did have one thing; her job. Though she despised it, though it was shameful and low, Eveline was good at it. Eveline, like many girls her age, were whores.

She spent her days deep in the gutters of France, her back pressed up against a fifthly alley wall with all the other whores, pale breasts suffocating against the neckline of her only dress. It was an old tattered thing, with deep blue fabric that fell just below her boney ankles. Thick, grey dust lined its hems, dirt and muck stained its skirt. And she would stand there, twirling long, brown locks around her finger, waiting for the next hungry man to come and empty his pockets for her. It was a shameful job, but it got her a bite of bread and a sip of water, and that was all that mattered.

Eveline was a favorite with the men. Some said it was because her hair was still long; a sea of chocolate waves that stopped a couple of inches above her waist, well-kept for the most part. Others rumored it was because of her skin, saying it still held the smoothness of youth, under all the dirt of course. Eveline was quite the looker, though. She had a pair of beautifully drawn lips and caramel eyes, which she was told could pulled men in as if by magic, but she didn't care much what men or the other whores thought of her. She was there to do her job and get her pay; no more. At least, that's how she thought, until she met _him_.

He came hurrying down the alley with one of the older whores; his blonde curls bouncing, brows furrowed. "Where is he, this man who's been wounded?" He asked hastily, glancing back at the white-haired woman.

"Just over 'ere, love," She said, gesturing towards Eveline and the other whores with the tip of her old rag, keeping it wrapped around her shoulders and chest. All the whores began to stare, their chapped lips curving upward in smirks, their hands already pulling up the hems of their skirts, revealing dirty thighs.

The blonde stopped in his tracks, jaw clenched in fortitude as he searched around the alley, barely scanning his eyes over Eveline or the other girls at all. Then, his fine features relaxed; it seemed as if the realization had sunk in. "There is no man injured here, is there?" He stated more than questioned, sighing as he turned to face the old hag.

"Man? Why would there be there be an injured man here?" The old whore said with a laugh, contradicting herself as she gave him a yellow grin. "We have only women here." She added suggestively, dropping the rag from off body, exposing an old and wrinkly chest, spilling out of an extremely ill-fitting dress, her shoulders bare; she had tricked the poor bastard.

"Pardon?" He asked, his brown eyes widening as he took a step back. The old woman only laughed again, and instead turned her rotting grin to the whores.

"_**Lovely Ladies,**_

_**Look at what I got.**_

_**Look at this one's eyes.**_

_**Look at this one's locks."**_

She sang with an old, cracking voice, gazing up at the apprehensive and angry younger man beside her.

"_**Lovely Ladies,**_

_**Isn't he a treat?**_

_**Found 'im all alone, wanderin' down the street."**_

"She's lying. She told me there had been an accident—" He tried, but she simply cut him off, still singing to the rousing girls.

_**Don't you know that younger's always sweet?!"**_

The girls began to gather around him, sticking their chests out for the very uncomfortable man to see, leaning up against him like dogs; it made Eveline sick. There were too many girls after this one. There was no way she was going to make a customer out of him. So, she stayed at her place beside the wall, her arms crossed over her chest. Then, the old whore spoke again.

"Don't get too excited, ladies. This one's for Eveline."

Eveline was suddenly interested again, her eyes shooting up at the group of hungry girls.

"Me?" Eveline said, placing a hand on her chest.

The other ladies' smiles dropped as they began to move away from the blonde, each having one more touch of him, running their hands over his cheeks, lips, leaving him seeming even more furious and out of place as before. The old whore gave Eveline a rotting grin, nodding her head as she began to chime again.

"_**Hey there, Eve, isn't he a gem?**_

_**He's younger and he's cuter, **_

She continued, pinching his cheek lightly before he had a chance to turn his face away.

_**And his wallet's not that thin.**_

_**So much better than the other men!"**_

She concluded, shoving the boy onto Eveline. He stumbled into her, grabbing her shoulders so she wouldn't hit the wall. He held on to them with a strong grip, a change from the usual drunken, lazy hands of the other men. The two locked gazes. He was handsome; there was no denying that; golden waves falling into big, brown eyes, a fair complexion. He seemed rich, baring a bright red vest with gleaming buttons. There was something else, though; he wore a Cockade Rosette. Blue, red, and white, the colors of the French flag, ruffled into a neat little circle, which meant only one thing; he was a rebel. It didn't matter who he was or what he fought for, though. All that mattered was that he was a paying customer.

Eveline began to sing.

"_**Boy or man, **_

_**Neither nor is nice.**_

_**But everything is possible,**_

_**When there is a price."**_

She chanted. She kept her eyes locked on his as he abruptly released her shoulders. She slipped her cold hand into his warm one and held it lightly, beginning to lead him away from the alley and towards the rooms where all business transactions happened, the whores following them with wistful eyes.

"_**Young man, old man,**_

_**Can't tell which one is worse.**_

She continued as they ascended a short staircase, the moldy wood creaking under their weight. He seemed apprehensive, looking back over his shoulder again and again. Eveline had dealt with conflicted men before though, and they all gave in in the end, so she just kept on walking.

_**As longs as there's a couple coins,**_

_**Jingling in my purse."**_

She led him into the room, pushing the door open with her free hand. Inside, there wasn't much, just a chair and a small mattress, really only big enough for one. Though it was a perfect size for this sort of thing; there was always one person on top of the other anyways. She pulled him towards the bed, softly sitting him down on to the springs. As if his eyes couldn't get any bigger, they widened as she lowered herself onto his lap, raising her dark blue skirt of her dress as she did so.

"_**Come on, monsieur.**_

_**How much do you want?!"**_

She sang conclusively, leaning in so close, she could feel his breath on her lips, warm and still steady. He met her hazel eyes, narrowing his own.

"None." He said, shaking his head. Eveline sighed; guess she would have to do some persuading.

She pressed her body tighter against his. "Are you sure, Monsieur?" She whispered, gazing at him as she brushed the locks out of his eyes, running her hand through the rest of his hair while she was at it. He really was handsome…. "Not even a little?" She asked, going in for a kiss, but he pulled back immediately.

"I want nothing from you." He spoke more firmly, taking her hands off him.

Eveline was taken aback. Usually by this point any man would've been undressed, but he was still refusing her.

"I—sir, you…" she trailed off, not knowing what to say exactly, but what could she do, force him?

He backed away from her, now beginning to sing.

"_That hag out there_

_She was lying._

_Told me a there was a man dying._

_So I came_

_Yes I ran quick_

_Just to find_

_you wanted a fix."_

Eveline felt the anger run through her like a flame. He was now accusing _her_ of wanting _him_. She never wanted a man to pay her for a kind of 'fix'; she never wanted any of this. Eveline shot up from off his lap, crossing her arms over her over exposed chest, chiming in with a retort.

"_I do not!_

_You came to me!_

_I am just here to serve and please!"_

The man's face dropped in remorse. "Forgive me, Mademoiselle. I mean no disrespect." He apologized, slowly standing up from the bed. "But I am not interested." He added bluntly and began digging in his pockets, coins jangling against each other. He took his hand out, pulling up coins. He reached over and took Eveline's hand in his with a lighter, gentler grip than before. He turned it over so her palm faced upward and dropped the money into it. Then, he gave her a small smile and turned his back to leave, just like that.

Eveline couldn't tear her eyes from the coins, shining unearned in her hand. She felt all her anger wash away in one big tide of disbelief. Genuine, good men like did not exist out of fairy tales, myths. She had met enough of them to know that. She slowly directed her eyes up at the man just as he was stepping out of the door.

"_**Wait, monsieur, is it really true**_

_**That under all the filth and hate, there's men with hearts like you?"**_

She sang as hot tears brimmed in her eyes. He turned around to face her, now the taken aback one. She slowly stepped closer to him, still not closing her palm, unable to claim the money as her own.

"_**Wait there, sir**_

_**You can't pay me like this.**_

_**We haven't shared**_

_**Haven't had a single kiss.**_

_**This is not how we do business!"**_

She said, extending her hand out for him to take his money back. He glanced down at her palm and shook his head.

"Please, mademoiselle, your skin is cold and you seem hungry." He said kindly, closing her hand for her. "Use it well." It wasn't as if Eveline would ever use her money for anything but good, but the way he had said it, less of a suggestion and more of an order, a wise warning; it made her want to listen. But she couldn't use it even if she wanted to. She hadn't earned this money, she hadn't done anything for this man but make him feel very uncomfortable.

"_I won't take it_

_No, not for free!" _

She sang, putting her hand out again. He shook his head, furrowing his brow, and sang back to her more sternly this time.

"_There's nothing you can do for me!" _

She stared over at him, her mouth open slightly, lost for words. There was arguing with him. She would keep the money, but like she said, she wouldn't keep it for nothing. She stepped as close as she could to the man, leaned into him, and pressed her lips to his before he had a chance to deny. He seemed shocked at first, his hands flying up to her shoulders as if to push her away, but to her surprise, he did not back out. She could not tell if he was doing it because he knew this was the only way she would take his money, or because he actually enjoyed her lips moving over his, but he actually returned the kiss. But just as she felt him about to deepen it, pulling her body in closer to his, she stupidly pulled away, regretting it the moment their lips parted, leaving him flushed, his constant steady breath finally uneven.

"Merci, monsieur…for the money," she said with almost shyness, a feeling she hadn't expressed in a long time, looking down at the patriotic pin on his vest. She glanced back up at him, meeting his eyes. "Vive la France."

He smirked softly, giving her a curt nod of his head. "Vive la France."


End file.
